2009 -- 2.1 (Fall) Poetry

Master of The Night

The night beckons; even to me as Master of the night

She still calls to me.

I will watch and wait for the night to take me.

Throughout the lonely night, I Dance.

The Dance Macabre my cold dark life of the Night

A Requiem of Sorrows lit only by the moon.

The deep set of my eyes, now soulless and dead.

Useful now only to view the Dance of others,

My subjects in this long Night.

For within the night, fear prevails.

My subjects, my monsters thirst for their sustenance

For the warm rose colored blood of human prey

A blood red slash of teeth then the

Soft screams echo into the soul of the night.

I the master, they my monsters, all made to be feared

My Requiem continues thus into immortality.

The moon, the dark, cold fear and hot blood come together as no true love could

I shall dance my Dance Macabre

A Master of the Night